


pistols at dawn

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And Like All Good Millennials His Pop Culture References Are Out Of Date, Christmas, Christmas Movies, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hank Anderson Is A Millennial, M/M, Multi, Post-Pacifist Ending, Silly, The Most Controversial Of All Possible Christmas Arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “It’s not nostalgia,” Hank said, adamant. “It’s tradition. Markus, back me up here.”Markus, who had so far managed to avoid getting caught in the middle because he was generally smarter than the rest of them, raised his hands and smiled the smile of the damned-and-damn-well-knew-it, time to commit to a side. “I, uh, don’t want to get involved in this. Sorry, Hank.”Or not.





	pistols at dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cute as hell [holiday prompt thing](https://detroitbecomehuman.dreamwidth.org/5644.html) going on over at the DBH DW comm.

“ _Die Hard_ is a classic of the genre,” Hank was saying, earnest—for him, anyway, it still sounded grizzled and a little cynical, Connor was certain Hank had no control of that, not even when he was trying to convince Connor of something he didn’t particularly want to do—even a little, hmm, defensive. It was cute in a way. Hank was rarely so demanding and insistent outside of work. Well. Sort of. Hank was never anything other than assertive. Connor could say that for certain. He supposed he was just surprised that Hank wanted so badly to watch this movie, one he now deemed a Christmas ‘classic,’ when he’d already declared it the best summer popcorn flick of all time.

Connor didn’t get the fuss. He also couldn’t eat popcorn. So maybe that explained it.

“You were three when it came out,” Connor said, going into investigative mode because it was fun for him and because he wanted to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. “This isn’t nostalgia, is it?” Connor was still trying to get the hang of nostalgia. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been alive long enough to truly develop a fondness for times past yet. Though he was starting to see the appeal: right now he was feeling fond of the days when he didn’t have to find a way out of watching _Die Hard_ again.

This would be the fourth time Hank has insisted they watch it and Connor just didn’t understand why. There were so many other movies they could all watch together, some of them equally, dubiously Christmas-themed if necessary. Not that any of those would appeal to Connor more. He just wasn’t a sit down and watch movies kind of android, but it was easy enough to accommodate both Hank and Markus for a few hours while he mentally preconstructed scenarios for unsolved cold cases he’d found in the police archives. He’d managed to solve three cases that way and it never failed to piss off Gavin when he went to Fowler with a tip to pass on. So the time wouldn’t be a total waste.

“It’s not nostalgia,” Hank said, adamant. “It’s tradition. Markus, back me up here.”

Markus, who had so far managed to avoid getting caught in the middle because he was generally smarter than the rest of them, raised his hands and smiled the smile of the damned-and-damn-well-knew-it, time to commit to a side. “I, uh, don’t want to get involved in this. Sorry, Hank.”

Or not.

Connor knew Markus. And so did Hank. He wasn’t sorry.

“Coward,” Hank replied, though they all knew he said it with fondness, more fondness than he would have wanted to admit to. Markus just inspired that in people. In Connor and Hank anyway. And most of Detroit. He hadn’t won everybody over, but not everybody had good taste or sense. It was a strange thing to learn about people, when before he’d deviated, he’d believed that every human was better than they were. CyberLife programming could be subtle. And sometimes, it was not. “Fine. If you don’t want to watch _Die Hard_ , what do you suggest we watch instead, Ebert?”

Connor wasn’t sure what that meant, though he was certain enough of the gist to skate by; he didn’t know anybody named Ebert and didn’t particularly want to go down another rabbit hole just to understand Hank’s references. Hopefully it wasn’t a really good comeback that Connor would very shortly regret not answering in kind. That happened sometimes. He disliked it immensely. It made Hank impossible to live with.

All he knew for sure was he hated this sort of question. Because it put him in a corner he didn’t want to be in and he knew better than to let himself be placed there. Because the truth was he just wanted to spend time with the pair of them and didn’t want to watch anything in particular; he never did, mostly deferring to Markus on that front, who would at least pick things Connor hadn’t seen before. But that would make Hank fussy, saying he’d rather do something else on movie night. And even if they did watch a movie, they were spending time together, which was Connor’s ultimate desire. There was no way out of this that ended with Connor as anything other than the petty villain. So Connor gritted his teeth and decided his next goal was to develop a preference for movies. Otherwise this was going to continue being a thing. At the very least he was determined to find one movie he liked and then drive it into the ground every time it was his turn to pick. He looked toward Markus. “How do you feel about _Die Hard_?”

Markus shrugged. “I’m okay with it,” he answered, but Connor knew the truth: Hank had somehow convinced Markus that this wasn’t just an excuse to indulge him again. Maybe Markus even liked the movie and just hadn’t seen fit to share that information with Connor. Maybe this was just Connor’s lot in life, rewatching a movie he didn’t even like simply because these two men he cared too much about happened to give a damn about it.

Hank didn’t actually move, but Connor didn’t need to see motion to know that Hank was mentally performing one of those ridiculous victory dances athletes did after they did something that was actually worth celebrating. Not like succeeding in co-opting movie night to turn it into ‘let’s watch _Die Hard_ again because there wasn’t another movie in Detroit worth watching’ night, which absolutely was not.

Keeping his face carefully, pristinely, perfectly blank, Connor nodded and hoped his concession came off as superior and cool and dignified. “Alright,” he said, tugging on the hem of his shirt and adjusting his collar. All he succeeded in doing was make himself feel awkward and stiff, wooden, every inch the plastic man Gavin still would’ve accused him of being. “I guess we’ll watch _Die Hard_.”

The words tasted like ash in Connor’s mouth, but it might have been worth it for the way Hank lit up with glee. It was a rare occasion when he smiled, though the occasions were growing more frequent as time passed, so Connor couldn’t entirely regret it. And even Markus was biting back a grin, which was a whole other thing that Connor didn’t need to get sentimental about. He, too, rarely had cause to smile. This was a small price to pay for both of them to find a little happiness.

Connor was, he realized now, a complete and total sucker, but as they settled on the couch, Markus’s fingers entangled with his and Hank’s arm around his shoulder, hand occasionally brushing over the nape of Connor’s neck, he found he didn’t particularly care about that fact any longer.

He might not have understood _Die Hard_ , but he thought maybe there were perks to sitting through it anyway.

He wouldn’t be feeling this sentiment the next time Hank got to choose a movie and went with _Home Alone_ , but Connor was, as yet, blissfully unaware of that fact.

He’d at least be able to console himself that it wasn’t _Die Hard_.


End file.
